Sweet Submission
by mommanerd
Summary: Sequel to "Who's Been Shagging in My Bed"


"Andrew, what the hell is this?" Buffy waved the magazine in his face.  
  
Andrew gulped. "Hi Buffy." He tried to keep his expression innocent as he reached to take the periodical from her. "Guess I left that in the bathroom."  
  
Buffy put it behind her back, well out of his reach. "Am I going to have to tie you up again?"  
  
Xander stopped working on the window to watch the proceedings. "Take it easy Buff. Just a guy in the bathroom with a magazine. Happens all the time."  
  
Buffy spun toward him. "Have you read this? Have you?!" She flapped it in the air indignantly. Andrew tried unsuccessfully to snag it again. Buffy backed him down with her murderous glare.  
  
Xander sauntered over and looked at the title. "'Forbidden Romance'? What, you couldn't find a 'Hustler' anywhere?" Xander took the magazine and flipped through it to see if it concealed any more interesting content. "Uh, Buffy? Are you sure this is Andrew's? Maybe Dawn…"  
  
"Read this." Buffy opened it to page twenty-seven. She poked it with her index finger. "Read this!"  
  
"'Sweet Submission' by Andrew Guestage." Xander looked up, his eyes filled with shock. "Andrew, you're writing romantic fiction?"  
  
"I prefer to think of it as fictionalized observation," Andrew stated proudly.  
  
"Ha!" Buffy yelled. "Fictionalized isn't the word for it. He's writing about me and he's… he's twisting everything to make it look like I'm… like we're… Ah! I'm going to kill him."  
  
"Let me see." Xander took the book from her again.  
  
"No!" Buffy snatched it back.  
  
"What's the deal? You told me to look at it."  
  
"I didn't want you to read it!"  
  
"C'mon Buff. What's he going to write? Ninety-five pound high school counselor beats up bad guys? No reason to sweat. No one would believe it."  
  
"You think that is what the twit has been writing? Read it!" She handed Xander the magazine, then pulled it back again. "No, don't."  
  
"Stop yelling." Anya wandered in from the kitchen. "You're disturbing the yoga session. It's the only thing that keeps the annoying teenagers quiet."  
  
While Buffy was distracted Xander plucked the magazine from her hand. "Let me see." He read for a second then looked at Andrew. "Tiffany the Troll Destroyer?"  
  
"It's artistic license," Andrew defended.  
  
"Trolls?" Anya moved over to Xander's side. "I know a lot about trolls. Is Olaf in here?" She took the book from Xander.   
  
"Just give me the stupid thing," Buffy insisted.  
  
"Stop being rude, Buffy," Anya chastised. "I'm reading here." She focused her eyes on a paragraph. "She fell into the forbidden embrace of her demon lover, caressing his lean but well muscled torso and tangling her fingers in his bright white hair." Anya looked up. "Why Buffy. This sounds just like you and Spike!"  
  
Xander snorted,. "An, Buffy wouldn't…"  
  
"Give it back!" Buffy shouted and grabbed for the book. Anya moved it behind her back, only to have it grabbed away by Xander.   
  
"Let me see that again." He turned the page and read further, a frown growing across his features. "Take me Shiv! Take my neck and drink from me and make me your…?" Xander looked up, confused. "What is a 'chilled'?"  
  
"A chilled?" Anya asked. "That doesn't make any sense. Let me see." She leaned over to look   
"C-H-I-L-D-E? Xander, that's 'Childe'. It's an overdramatic term used to describe the relationship between a vampire and his… his…" She turned her head and shouted into the kitchen. "Spike come out here!"  
  
"Noooo…." Buffy whimpered.  
  
"What?" Spike entered the room. Buffy's back stiffened and Xander narrowed his eyes, watching the interplay of the couple suspiciously.  
  
"What do you call it when you've made another vampire?" Anya asked, missing the tense overtones in the room.  
  
"Siring?" Spike asked.  
  
"No. We know all about that. What do you call your progeny?"  
  
Spike stopped with his hands on his hips and thought it over. "Don't know that I ever named one of mine." He quirked his eyebrow. "You want to know what Drusilla used to call me?"  
  
"Please yes," Andrew answered.  
  
There was a chorus of "No!" from everyone else in the room.  
  
"What's this about anyway?"  
  
"Nothing," Buffy stated. "Xander and Anya were just leaving and I was going to torture Andrew.  
  
"I want to stay for that," Anya protested. "The geek squeals in a strangely satisfying way."  
  
"And I want to know where Andrew got this whole idea of Buffy and Spike from." Xander gestured toward the suddenly silent pair. "I mean her with him and the whole clothes ripping and heaving breasts and…" He trailed off. "There isn't any breast heaving going on, is there?"  
  
"No heaving." Buffy said. "None. I mean look at me. What's to heave?" As the others nodded in agreement she glanced at Spike guiltily, taking in the hurt on his face. "Maybe some minor breath catching, and a smidgen of awkwardness…"  
  
"But no clothes ripping," Spike added.  
  
"Definitely none of that," Buffy agreed. "And… and no biting of any kind."  
  
"Biting?" Spike asked. "You think I'd bite her?" His face darkened in anger and he took a step toward Xander.  
  
"Not me… him!" Xander raised the magazine protectively between himself and the advancing vampire and pointed at Andrew.  
  
"The squeaky nerd wrote a story," Anya explained. "It's a thinly disguised account about you and Buffy. Xander's mad because he doesn't want to see what's right under his nose and Buffy's mad because she's all full of the delusion that nobody can see how she feels about you, and you're there trying to act all noble and stiff with the upper lip, but you won't even give a thought to another attractive eligible female who is right in the same house with you because you're so hung up on Buffy. It's ridiculous!"  
  
"Exactly!" Andrew responded happily.   
  
"I see just fine!" Xander said.  
  
"I am not in denial," Buffy said.  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike said.  
  
"I'm going back to my apartment now." Anya turned to Andrew. "Do you mind if I take this with me?" She grabbed the magazine away from Xander.  
  
"Go right ahead," Andrew said. "I have more."  
  
"More?" Buffy said. "How many more?"   
  
"Eleven. It's the first time I've been officially published, except for a few letters to the editor at Marvel, and I bought a dozen from the drug store right next to the butcher shop."  
  
"Where are they Andrew?" Buffy gritted out.  
  
"Oh, all over. I gave one to Dawn and one to that wrinkly guy who comes over to see Spike and one to the trainees that they're all sharing."  
  
"I'm stopping this right now," Buffy declared. "Xander, go gather everyone in the house. I want them to bring the magazines, we'll account for them all..." She stopped and fixed a steely glare on Andrew. "...and burn them."  
  
"Not this one!" Anya said as she hurried to the door. "But don't worry Buffy, I promise I won't show it to anybody." She opened the door and ran into Willow.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"See you later Willow!" Anya greeted her, then disappeared out the door.  
  
Willow entered the room excitedly. "Buffy, you won't believe what I just found when I was at the butcher shop!" She held up "Forbidden Romance". "These things are everywhere and there's a story in here that could be about you if your name was Tiffany and you were having a wild affair with..." She stopped, noticing the angry glares of the others. "... with someone you'd never have an affair with because he's been recently homicidal, not to mention insane and you already knew about this, huh?"  
  
"Willow. Please tell me that when you said everywhere you didn't mean everywhere."  
  
"Well, um, sorta everywhere in the all over downtown way." Willow's eyes widened in panic. "But don't worry, because all those people reading it would never guess that this is about you, in spite of all the fact you live on Revello Drive and work at the school."   
  
The silence in the room was overwhelming.  
  
"How 'bout I whip up a handy dandy 'forget' spell?"  
  
"Ohhh!" Buffy put her hand over her eyes and sank onto the couch. "Andrew, why? Why did you have to write this?"  
  
"Buffy, I have a sacred duty to leave behind a record of your valiant exploits so that future generations can know of your sacrifices and your bravery. And you broke my camera."  
  
Willow sat beside her friend. "Hey, nobody really believes this stuff anyway. I mean look how this is written." Willow turned to page thirty-one. "Here, listen to this. 'He barely dared touch her, for he knew without a doubt that he would be lost. But she was the face of his redemption and they were tied to one another for all time. As he drew her close she reached out with her fingertip to trace the scar on his left eyebrow...'"  
  
"What the bleeding hell is this?" Spike erupted.  
  
"So now you care?" Xander asked. "And what is this about scar tracing?" He looked a Buffy. "Is there scar tracing now?"  
  
"Hey! Not to worry," Willow said. "Look, it's almost done. There's only one more paragraph and it's just kissing. I mean really hot and wet kissing that's pretty... descriptive. Then it's over. No nookie!"  
  
"What's that?" Buffy pointed to the bottom of the page. "What are those three letters?"  
  
"Oh I didn't see that," Willow said. "T B C."  
  
"T B C?" Buffy rose from the couch. "Andrew, please tell me that T B C doesn't mean..."  
  
"To be continued?" Andrew squeaked.  
  
"You mean there's more of this drivel?" Spike advanced on him.  
  
Andrew's gaze darted between the two ticked off super-powered beings and he backed up nervously. "It's uh, it's just a short sequel," he gulped. "Where in which Tiffany the Destroyer of Trolls discovers that she's with child just as she thinks that Shiv has been taken from her arms forever." He swallowed again, "It's called 'Sweet Succession'."  
  
"Give it to me Andrew," Buffy gritted out. "I'm going to burn it before anyone else ever gets a chance to read it."  
  
"Well you see, there's a problem," Andrew told her as he maneuvered himself behind a chair. "It was submitted two weeks ago and will be featured in the September issue." Andrew gave her a bright smile. "I have a letter!"  
  
"Look at it this way, luv," Spike told her. "We lose the next apocalypse and nobody is around to read it."  
  
"See there?" Xander clapped an arm around her shoulders. "Worst case scenario is that nobody is around except demons and we all know they have better things to do than read this stuff."  
  
The doorbell rang and Willow rose to answer it.  
  
"Hi Clem."  
  
"Hey!" He waved at everyone. "I was wondering if I could speak with..." he pointed at Andrew. "What's his name again?"  
  
"Mud." Buffy said.  
  
"Uh, yeah." Clem agreed uncertainly. "I was wondering if he had any more of these." He held up a tattered copy of 'Forbidden Romance'. The guys down at Willy's were fighting over this one. They love this stuff. There's a story in here that sounds just like you and..."   
  
"We know!"   
  
"Hey, temper!" Clem threw up his hand as if to ward off Buffy's wrath. He sidled over to Spike. "You didn't tell me you two had started up again."  
  
"We haven't," Spike told him grimly. He turned to Buffy. "Where's the ponce getting these ideas?"  
  
"This is all your fault!" She blustered.  
  
"You're blaming this on me?"  
  
"Yes you, with your mooniness and standing around by me all the time."  
  
"Oh, and this has nothing to do with you feeling me up in front of the birds? Or strolling around the house in your knickers?"  
  
"It was a camisole, and you didn't look anyway."  
  
"So you noticed that, did you?"  
  
"Stop it!" Buffy stomped her foot. "That's it. This discussion is over. Xander go to work. Take Clem with you. Willow, check on the girls. Spike, you come with me." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Andrew you go wherever it is that you go when you're not constantly under my feet. And no more stories!"   
  
"Yes Buffy."  
  
She turned and strode out of the almost empty room, followed closely by Spike. Andrew waited until he heard a door shut somewhere in the back part of the house before making his way over to the couch. He lifted up the cushion on the right and reached down to retrieve his journal. With one last look around to ensure that he wasn't observed, he opened the book and began to write.  
  
The end?  
  
*** 


End file.
